Morning Brings a New Day
by FoolForSpike
Summary: Post "Grave". Yes. Another one. But we love it don't we? After the events that occurred in the season 6 finale "Grave," Buffy, Spike, and the rest of the Scoobies attempt to pick up the pieces of their lives, and understand where they fit in.
1. Home, or Something Like it

Name/Alias: FoolForSpike

Disclaimer:  The characters of BTVS belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy only.  The events and ideas in this story do not reflect the ideas of Joss, the writers, or the cast members of BTVS in any way.  Thank you.  

Rating: pg-13 for violence, mild language, and mild sexual themes (woo hoo!).

Summary:  Post "Grave".   Yes.  Another one.  But we love it don't we?  After the events that occurred in the season 6 finale "Grave," Buffy, Spike, and the rest of the Scoobies attempt to pick up the pieces of their lives, and understand where they fit in.  Third person POV.  Drama/Angst/Romance (B/S).  

Feed Back:  YES PLEASE!!!!  Tell me what you think!  AmorFati323@cs.com

Author's note:  Any similarities that exist between my story and the actual season 7 of Buffy are purely coincidental.  About three quarters of this fan fiction was written before the season premier. Joss's and the BTVS writers' ideas belong to them as mine belong to me, and any common ground you find in here just happens to be my good luck J

Morning Brings A New Day

1. _Home, Or Something Like It                                                                           _

      Spike sat in the corner of his crypt, huddled into a ball, with his dirt-smeared for head pressed up against the cold marble.  Darkness surrounded him.  Every crevice of the crypt was engulfed in it, and he wanted it to fill him too, once again, as it did what seemed like ages ago.  As thick and heavy as this darkness was, inside he was filled with a strange, expanding, tangled light.  It was a tricky thing really.  It crept up on him slowly, instead of washing over him like an inevitable sea wave, as he had imagined. 

 "Like a bloody disease!" he hissed to no one.  "Get it out.  Got to get it out!!"  Tears peaked from the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over as visible proof of his torture, but he forced them back.  He had tried so hard, so very hard, to fight it, to keep it from spreading, but it was much stronger than he'd remembered.    He no longer knew who he was.  If he had been confused about his identity before the little expedition, and he most certainly had been, it had done little to clear things up.  He was suddenly more a stranger to himself then he'd ever been.  The feelings wormed their way into him, and the tears burst their way through finally, as if to mock the futility of his resistance efforts.  "It wasn't supposed to BE this way…" he grumbled.  It's too hard…too hard…it was s'posed to get easy again..." Spike wiped his eyes dry furiously and began to rise to his feet when he heard a knock on the crypt door.  He sat silent for a moment, not knowing what to do, or what to say.  His evolution from pure evil, to whatever he had been only a week or so ago was drastic, but at least it had been gradual, and he was, for the most part, able to adjust.  This new transformation however, was sudden and fierce, and his attempts to cope were threatening his sanity.  Buffy opened the door slowly, and peaked in at Spike's shaking, disheveled figure.

"Spike?" she called boldly.

Suddenly he was ashamed, and he whipped his head around to face the opposing wall so she would not see the tears that reeked of humanity.  To a vampire, being human means to be inadequate and lacking.  With humanity comes emotional responsibility and morality, and these things are weakness of character in the eyes of a vampire.  Some small, and illogical part of him feared she would think even less of him if she discovered what had happened.  

"Spike?" She called again, walking in slowly and shutting the door behind her.  "Clem said you were back…" Buffy didn't know what she was doing there.  She didn't want to see him, and she didn't know if she could even handle being in his presence, but as she patrolled the cemetery, her body had somehow found its way inside his crypt, as if it were magnetically drawn there.  Also, what Clem had said about Spike's rantings of the chip, and his intentions of "changing things" unnerved her.  If Spike had turned around he would have seen the stake she held hidden, pressed against her hip, and the glint of fear in her eyes. Not fear _of_ him, but fear of what she would have to do to him if what Clem had told her was true.  Granted, his actions before he went away had left him far from being in her good graces to say the very least, but it was more complicated than that.  A part of her empathized with the internal war of good, love, and evil that had been raging within him for 2 years, and she could never ignore or forget the relationship they'd shared for the past year, twisted as it had been.  Spike did mean something to her, in a distorted and unhealthy way, yes, but he still meant something.  She certainly didn't like that fact, but there was little she could do to change how she felt.  Despite all the pain they had caused each other, she didn't want to destroy him. "Spike where have you been??" Buffy asked raising her voice sternly in hopes of quelling her own fears with the sounds of confidence and strength.  

"I went…away...for a bit…is that a bloody crime?" Spike choked out into the hands that covered his face.

"Where did you go?" she asked curiously, suddenly noticing that his whole body was shaking subtly, like tiny tremors running up and down his spine.

"I went to change things."  

A thousand thoughts ran through Buffy's mind all at once: "_He did get the chip out then?  Why hasn't he killed anyone?  Maybe he couldn't get it out.  Maybe this is a trap.  Maybe he is messing with my head. You have to be strong."_

"Change things how exactly?" was all she managed to get out, tightening her lips with resolve and stepping further into the dark and musty structure.  She grasped the stake tighter to keep her hand from shaking, angry that her nerves were getting the best of her.  

"I wanted to be what I was before…before that buggering metal THING!" he cried, ranting more to him self than to Buffy.  "Bloody chip ruined me!!  Made me less than what I was!  And now…this thing is _in _me…and it won't bloody stop!" he raged, rising suddenly and hauling a burnt out candle into his television.  The screen smashed, and glass pieces flew to ricochet against the stonewalls, landing scattered about the cement floor.  Buffy flinched, but moved closer still, surveying his ragged appearance with even more alarm.

"Spike what the hell is going on?!  Clem told me you went to get the chip out…is that true?" she asked, no longer hiding her weapon, but hiding the waver in her voice just as well.  

"Yeah…'s what I told him…wanker double-crossed me though" Spike replied, shaking his head in resignation.  

Buffy sensed something creeping from the back of her mind. She couldn't seem to place it, but it came closer to surfacing the more he spoke.  Something was very different about him; altered, like in a dream where an object looks exactly the same as it has always been, but yet off somehow. His swagger was gone, and a strange humbleness so unlike his personality replaced it.  Spike sank to his knees and laid the back of his head against the cool wall.  The summer sun was beginning to rise, and though the crypt was, for the most part, sunlight guarded, the sense of dead night was draining, and a fresh morning could be felt, warm and thick like lazy syrup. 

 "I never stopped loving you…not for a second." he spoke softly, looking down.   "I didn't…what I done to you…before I left…I couldn't believe it was me doin' it, and it hurt so bad … so I went to this bloke for help.  I just wanted the pain to stop, and now… it's worse than before…the lit'l light in me shines round and round…'s constant…bloody unbearable!!" he cried, shutting his eyes and banging his head against the wall with a sickening thud. "I don't remember it bein this bad…" a laugh. "It's been a looong time since…" Suddenly the thing gnawing at the back of Buffy's mind slammed into her consciousness with full force, and she could not believe it. 

 "Light…" she said, shaking her head almost imperceptibly  "Your soul…he gave you back your soul…?"  She trailed off.  The stake she was holding suddenly fell to the floor with a clink, and rolled off into some shadowy corner the morning light had not yet filled.  Spike nodded subtly, his face contorted by another wave of emotional anguish.  "Oh God…oh my _God_." She cried.  For the first time in 6 years as a slayer, Buffy Summers hadn't the slightest idea what to do. An intense feeling of disorientation paralyzed her suddenly, like someone had plucked her from familiarity and dropped her on some foreign planet where everything that applied in her world meant nothing.  She had dealt with a vampire losing and gaining his soul before, but this was different.  This was Spike.  Just Spike.  He was a vampire with a chip in his head, and she never anticipated him being anything other than that.  She didn't know what to think, how to feel, or what to say. The sensation was much akin to that of being thrown under water, and experiencing that initial second of panic when you don't know which way is which.

 "I dunno how you do it…" Spike said breaking the silence.  

"Do what?" Buffy replied in a shock-endued daze.

"Live…like this." He replied, looking to the side of him.  "Everything hurts…I hurt before…but this is…raw.  I never felt anything like it…like comin' back from the dead.  I remember…everything…everything I been tryin' to forget for the last 200 years…It's William...and then me…but I'm William too…" he finished, looking, completely lost, down between his bent knees at an invisible spot on the floor.  

Buffy suddenly realized the familiarity of the situation, remembering her own climb from the perfect, simple, world of the dead, back into the harsh and grating world of responsibility.  "It hurts…" She spoke evenly.  "It hurts really bad at first.  There are a lot of…bad feelings to deal with in our world…so much harshness…but it gets better.  You get used to it, and in time you own it again.  You finally understand why it's worth all the pain to be here.  I did… and you will too.  It's just…gonna take some time…" Her words were steady and sincere, but they were not warm or sympathetic by any stretch of the imagination.  He took them to heart nonetheless, and was touched, closing his eyes in an attempt to shut out the reality of what was happening to him. "I gotta go."  Buffy said neutrally, letting none of her anger or confusion show through.  She opened her mouth slightly as if to say something further, but then, deciding against it, turned and walked out, shutting the door gently behind her.


	2. Limbo

2. _Limbo_

 Buffy entered her house and shut the door quietly behind her so as not to wake anyone still lost in the bliss of early sleep.  She laid her head against the wooden door and closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the weight of the last twenty minutes.  It's amazing, she thought to herself, how drastically things can change in such a short period of time.  Twenty minutes was all it took to alter and rearrange her life yet again.  It seemed, to her, that the most significant changes happen within the shortest time spans: Tara killed.  The fraction of a second it took to end her life almost brought about the end of the world.  Warren viscously slain by Willow.  It only took a few seconds but it pushed her best friend over a line that she may never return from, and now this.  Buffy felt that she'd just gotten a grasp on her situation with Spike.  She finally understood what it meant; why she did what she did, and why she could no longer keep doing it.  Sleeping with Spike was not the way to get better, no matter how good it made her feel, because she didn't love him.  She could never love him because he didn't have a soul, and no matter how real his feelings for her were, they didn't out weigh his immoral ruthlessness.  For this reason she had ended it.  It was time, she realized, to face her life's difficulties, instead of hiding from them in passionate, physical bliss, and she'd done so quite successfully. Twenty minutes, and all of that was sent back to the drawing board for yet another re-evaluation.    She could have never loved Spike because he was almost completely immoral, evil, and without a soul. What did this mean now?  She didn't even really know him. Things were never simple with Spike, but she hadn't forgotten nor forgiven what he had tried to do to her the night he left.  Sighing heavily, she decided to wait until morning to untangle this mess, and made her way up the stairs into bed.

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     Buffy woke hours later in the throws of dream-induced ecstasy.  With back in full arch, and Spike's name dying in the back of her throat, the unrelenting grip of consciousness dragged her back from the dark, hot places, where his eyes held her captive and his body filled her own.  As she cracked her eyes open to the real world, however, the sweetness of the dream transformed its self, without warning, into the most hideous of nightmares, as she felt the ghost pain of her back slamming into the side of the bath tub, and saw clearly, like it was happening again, Spike's crazed eyes as he forced his body between her legs. 

'_I'm gonna **make** you feel it!'_

 "No!" Buffy cried as her eyes flew open in terror.  She sat up quickly, realized where she was, and let out a shaky sigh, putting her hands over her face to try and wipe away the experience.  Her pajamas were drenched in sweat, and clung stubbornly to her body as she rolled over, pressing her flushed face into the cool pillow.  She sighed deeply into the white fabric with mixed feelings of sexual satisfaction and disgust.   She didn't like the fact that she still had a physical attraction toward Spike, especially after his psychotic assault, and although they felt wonderful at first, all these dreams ended the same way: with the flashbacks.  

 "I'm insane."  Buffy said decidedly to her pillow.  Suddenly there was a knock on her bedroom door, and before she could answer, Dawn's head poked through, followed shortly by the rest of her body.  "Morning sleepy head." She said smiling.  "Or should I say afternoon.  It's almost 5 o'clock." 

Buffy sat up quickly, and ran her hands through her hair.  "Um…yah, I didn't get in until late…well, early if ya wanna be technical about it." She said, smiling back at her little sister.  The room's light was fading quickly, but Dawn still noticed her sister's drippy condition, and looked concerned.

 "Buffy are you ok??  You're sweating like crazy.  Do you have a fever or something??"  She inquired with her rapid fire questioning.  

"Oh!  No I'm fine." Buffy replied hurriedly, tucking a loose strand of hair back in its rightful place behind her ear.  "I uh…just had a nightmare, I think."  

Dawn nodded in understanding.  "Yah…It's kinda hard to not have bad dreams lately…I mean ever since…. ya know…Tara and everything…" she said, looking sad.  Buffy was suddenly overcome by a wave of intense guilt.   One of her close friends and confidantes was dead, her best friend was walking the line of mental and emotional destruction, and instead of being tortured in shallow sleep with these issues, she was off in a deep slumber, having twisted sex dreams about an attempted rapist, with apparently no subconscious concerns towards her unfortunate loved ones.  

"I made you breakfast!" Dawn said cheerily, interrupting Buffy's thoughts.  Well…actually, I tried to cook you a Mexican omelet, but…we didn't have any peppers, or hot-sauce, or butter, or um…eggs, so I cooked you a bowl of Coca-Coca Pebbles instead."  

"Thank you." Buffy said, grinning appreciatively at her sister's efforts.  "Hey…have you talked to anyone yet today?"

"Nope.  Well, I talked to Giles on the phone this morning.  He said he was gonna stop by later on to talk to you…about Willow…" she said looking down at her feet.

Buffy nodded her head and looked worried.  "How is she today?  The same?"

"Yeah…still in her room…I tried to bring her some orange juice this morning but…she wouldn't let me in…"

Buffy sighed, looking out her widow for a brief moment.

" Why do you ask?" Dawn inquired, reverting back to the original subject.  "I mean about the gang.  Is something up?"  She asked, a spark of excitement glittering behind her eyes.

"Sort of."  Buffy replied.  "Something's happened, and I wanna tell everyone together."

"Something good?  Like…brownies grow on trees now?  Please say it's not something bad.  I can't take anymore badness…"

"No, no… nothing bad really…it's just…something's changed."

"And I thought you were gonna be vague about it." Dawn scoffed, rolling her eyes.  Buffy smiled in reply and crawled reluctantly out of her warm, damp bed.   "Lead the way to the land of Coca-Pebbles."  She said with a grin.  Linking their arms together, the Summers sisters made their way downstairs to the kitchen.

Willow sat, Indian style on her bed, letting the warm afternoon sun dance on her face through the trees outside her open window.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, imagining that Tara was there with her, in her arms.  She thought she could almost smell her hair, a faint scent of the honeydew watermelon shampoo she always used.  Suddenly her face crumbled and she began to weep.  She didn't think after last night that there were any more tears left to shed inside her broken and battered heart.  It had been the first night she actually slept, but it brought no comfort to her.  Instead, her sleep had been haunted with nightmares; flashbacks of Warren flayed, and Tara dead at her feet, those beautiful eyes that always smiled at her, now blank and empty.  The eyes had looked right at Willow, but saw then only what the dead see, whatever that may be.   She let her mind wander back to Warren once more.  In her dream she'd thought she could see every vein and tendon in his entire body, and his muscles glistened, wet with blood and viscous fluid.  And that awful smell, like cold, raw beef.  That's what he…it had been; raw beef with eyes.  She fought off another wave of nausea, and put her face in her hands.  Had she really done that to a human being, she thought?   How could things have gotten so bad so quickly?  The situation was rather ironic she thought with half-hearted bitterness.  It was her love for someone else which ignited that black flame of death and destruction; a dark flame that spread, burned, and consumed everything in its path.  But in the end, it was someone else's love for her which had ended the rampage, putting out the flame that had wormed it's way inside of her own heart, nearly claiming her, and the rest of the world, as it's final victims.  She wondered if her friends could ever forgive her for all the pain and terror she had caused.  She never intended to hurt them, but when the magic filled her, it was like being controlled, altered, and driven solely by its intoxicating power. The very essence of its evil had sucked her in, and drained her humanity. She had become a slave to it's bidding, chained by darkness.  How could she ever explain that to her friends, Willow wondered.  How could she make them understand?  She had not come out of her room in three days except to use the toilet or to get a glass of water, and the only person she would see was Xander.  His love for her was unconditional, and she knew he had already forgiven her.  In fact, she didn't think there was ever a point when she was not forgiven in his eyes, but she didn't know about the others.  Could she ever face them again?

"It's about time you were up." Giles said, sounding mildly annoyed as he walked into the Summers residence.   Buffy turned her head away from the coffee machine long enough to give him a look that matched his own, before returning to pour her self a cup.  "A slayer needs her sleep."  She declared, sitting down at the white Formica table.

"Yes, of Course." He replied with sarcasm.  Suddenly Giles was serious, folding his arms on the table and giving Buffy his  "no more jokes" look.  "How is she today?"

"The same…" Buffy said shaking her head and looking down a moment.  "Giles…I can't stand this.  Just letting her sit up there alone.  I feel like we should be _doing_ something for her.  

"I know this is difficult Buffy, and I understand you feel as if you aren't helping, but leaving her be is the best thing we can do for her right now." Giles said sympathetically.

"How??" Buffy exclaimed.  "How can letting her sit there, day after day, with nothing to do but think about everything that's happened be _helping_ her?  She's so vulnerable right now Giles, she needs someone to be there."

"Well Xander's been in and out," Dawn interjected, "But…he says she's not really talking much…" Buffy sighed with frustration and put her face in her hands.

"Listen to me Buffy."  Giles urged, removing his glasses.  "Willow _is _vulnerable right now.   Her-her decision to take in that magic, sent her across a line that many experienced sorcerers and sorceresses have failed to recover from.  Not only must she begin to deal with Tara's death, she also must come to terms with what she's done to Warren and her loved ones at the same time.  This is…a heavy load for young woman to carry, to say the least, and she's going to need a few days to let it all sink in…to-to absorb everything that's happened.  Besides…I expect she's going to need more help than what we can offer her to overcome this." 

Buffy nodded wearily in agreement, resting her head on her hand.  "But who?  I mean it's not like we can send her to regular therapist.  They'll put her in an institution if she tries to tell them she almost caused the Apocalypse."

"Well, I may know someone in England, a magic man who fell into the same hands of darkness that Willow did, and who-who made quite a remarkable recovery.  I think he could be of great help to her if she would agree to see him."  

"No!!" Dawn cried in protest, bounding from her chair.  "Don't take her back with you Giles, please!  It's hard enough not having you around anymore.  I don't want to lose Willow too! Please!" she pleaded, taking his arm with her hand.

Giles chuckled, taking Dawn by the hand gently.  "Fear not my Dawn.  It, of course, would only be a temporary stay for her."  A pause. "And for me."  He said turning to Buffy. 

 A grin slowly spread across her face as she realized what he meant, and Dawn soon had one to match.

"Oh my God!  Yay!! Oh yay!!"  Dawn cried throwing her arms around Giles, who hugged her back warmly.

Buffy smiled at Giles, her eyes beginning to tear with happiness and relief.  "It just hasn't the same around here without you." She said squeezing his hand with hers.

"You've done exceptionally well in my absence Buffy, and I won't lie to you.  I truly feel you needed it. But you've grown _so_ much in these few short months, so it's time for me to come home now." He said smiling lovingly at the girls.  "Speaking of changes," he said looking quizzically at Buffy, "you mentioned something on the phone about a change of circumstances.  What on earth did you mean?"  

"Yeah Buffy, what's the big secret?  You know I hate secrets.  Well at least when I'm the only one who doesn't know them." Dawn said grumpily.  

"I'll tell you both, as soon as the others get—" she began as Xander and Anya walked into the kitchen.  They did not look pleased with each other.

"Everything OK guys?" Buffy asked tentatively.

"Yeah."

"Fine." They answered simultaneously, moving to opposite sides of the kitchen.  Anya looked angry and hurt, and Xander looked like a man with nothing left to give: tired, sad, and broken.  Buffy gave him a sympathetic look.  He'd been trying so hard the past couple of months to make up for the pain he caused his ex-fiancee, but she wasn't showing any signs of pardon.

"What's up Buff?"  Xander asked, breaking the agonizingly uncomfortable silence.  "Don't tell me we've got a baddie to take down already." He said walking towards the table and taking a seat next to Buffy.  "You'd think a near apocalypse would keep those little guys down for a while…ya know…with the almost dying."

"No beasties today."  Buffy said, pushing her hair behind her ears nervously.   She had no idea how the gang would react to the news about Spike.  She didn't even understand what it meant to her yet.  She took a quick glance at Anya, who was still standing at the far end of the kitchen shooting daggers at Xander, and spit it out. 

 "Guys, Spike is back in Sunnydale…back home."

"That's it. Xander said with resolve, standing up from his seat.  "He's dust."  

"Xander, sit down."  Buffy commanded grabbing his arm.  "Things have changed."

"No Buffy."  He continued, determined.  "That guy has done nothing but screw up and cause pain since the first day he stepped foot in this town, and for some reason that I cant see, everybody gives him a break.  Well he's had his last break.  I draw the line at attempted rape."

"Attempted rape?!"  Giles exclaimed, whipping off his glasses.  "Attempted on who?"

"On Buffy." Dawn answered looking hurt and bitter.  She had become close to Spike over the past year, and she trusted him not only with her life, but with her sister's as well. She never forgot what Spike was, but she truly believed he'd never lay a harmful finger on a Summers woman.   This betrayal of trust hurt her deeply, and she didn't think she could ever forgive Spike for what he did.

"Buffy is this true?" Giles asked, turning to her.

"You look all look so surprised." Xander went on before she could answer.  "At what point in time did you guys forget that Spike is_ evil_?!" 

"Guys—" Buffy tried to interject.

"Spike isn't _totally_ evil." Anya piped in matter of factly.  "There _is_ good inside of him.  I mean sure he did a really stupid thing… but I think we should give him a brea—"

"_You _don't get to say anything about this!!" Xander cried viciously, whipping around to point an accusatory finger at her.  "I've had enough of you're—"

"GUYS!!" Buffy finally screamed, and the room went silent.  "He left.  He left to get that chip out of his head, but he came back with a soul instead.  Spike has his soul back."  No one moved.   No one breathed, for what seemed to Buffy, like ages.

"Oh my…" Giles murmured finally.  "Well this uh, certainly does uh…alter things…now doesn't it?"

Xander shook his head in disbelief.  "This is fitting.  Yet another break for poor old Spike." He spat bitterly.  "Just in time to escape the consequences of his actions… again."  He threw his arms up in the air and walked out of the room in exasperation.

"Xander—" Buffy started, but Giles put a hand up, motioning to let him be.

"Poor Spike!"  Anya cried with deep sympathy, half hoping it was loud for Xander to hear.  "He must be in terrible pain…ya know with the guilt of all those people he murdered in cold blood resting on his shoulders….  I'm glad _I_ don't have any of that." She added thankfully, smiling around the room. 

Dawn, who had, up until this point been sitting silently with her mouth cracked open in shock, finally spoke up.  "Someone should be with him…h-he shouldn't be alone." 

"I don't quite believe it." Giles said softly.

"He is…in a lot of pain." Buffy replied, not sure if she minded that fact or not.  "There's no doubt about that."

"We should give him some money."  Anya suggested with enthusiasm.  "Receiving money always replenishes _my _will to live."   Buffy, Dawn, and Giles all turned to glare at her like parents glaring at a child who has just belched at the dinner table. "I'm just saying…" she mumbled, moving closer to the group in hopes of redemption.

 "I'm going over there." Dawn said impatiently, rising from her chair.

"You're going by yourself?" Buffy asked expectantly, challenging Dawn with her eyes.

"Yah...That's ok right?" Dawn replied, holding her breath.  This exchange was the first test of their newly evolved relationship.  Buffy had told Dawn that she no longer wanted to hide her from the world, but rather, show it to her.  Could she really live up to that declaration Dawn wondered?  Or would Buffy let love and protective instinct suffocate her only chance at growing up.  Buffy hesitated a moment, and then answered in a threatening tone. "Just make sure you bring a weapon of some kind:  sword, stake, big lumpy stick, I don't care, but it's gonna be dark soon and I want you to have something to protect yourself with…ok?"

"Ok."  Dawn replied, smiling at her sister with relief and appreciation.  "I'll go grab something out of the chest."  

"I'll go with you to the living room!"  Anya cried, following Dawn hurriedly across the kitchen.  "This subject of conversation is depressing and uncomfortable, so I'm politely excusing myself from the room." She explained, giving everyone one last awkward smile before exiting.

Giles, who had been watching the conversation with silent interest, turned to Buffy with eyebrows raised.  He was not used to seeing The Slayer so lenient and trusting with her little sister.

"It was time." Buffy replied to his questioning look.  "I saw her fighting…and…for the first time, I realized who she was.   I mean she was amazing Giles. You should've seen her." She continued, smiling to herself.  "She was like this, incredible, strong woman… and I've been treating her like a child the whole time. " she said, looked down with remorse.

"You were just doing what you thought was best for her Buffy."  Giles said consolingly. You were trying to keep her from harm, like any devoted sister would do."

"But I went beyond that Giles." Buffy protested, shaking her head. "I wasn't just protecting her…I was holding her back.  I was keeping her from herself. God, no wonder she acted out the way she did…the stealing, the temper tantrums… all the times I screamed at her, when I was the one screwing up…It's my fault." She finished, looking into his eyes.  He sighed and met her gaze.  "Buffy, I've told you this once before, quite some time ago, and I'm going to tell you again.  If you're looking for guilt, I'm not your man."  She smiled slightly at the reminiscent cluster of advice.  "You already carried a thousand times the responsibility of most women your age, and-and to add on to that daily struggle, you lost mother."  A cloud of sadness passed over Buffy's eyes at the mention of her mother, but was gone almost as soon as it appeared. "You…you were overwhelmed Buffy, and you did the very best you could, given the circumstances.  Perhaps you made some ill choices with Dawn, but it was only because you love her. You've recognized your mistake and learned from it.  There's nothing to be ashamed of in that."

"I guess…" she said, fiddling with her fingernails.  "We start training on Monday.  I just… don't wanna screw her up…ya know?"

"I do know."  Giles said, squeezing her hand knowingly.  "You're doing just fine.  I assure you."

"I hope so…I don't know what I'd do if……and now Spike."  Buffy added, sighing heavily.  "I don't even know what to think Giles.  It makes my head hurt to think…"  

"May I ask……" Giles began tentatively after a short silence. "Did you love him at all?"

Buffy looked inside herself for a moment, just a moment, and then answered, "No.  No I didn't love him."  She replied, looking up from her fingers.  "How could I?  He didn't have a soul."


	3. Pop The Cork

3. _Pop the Cork_

Dawn entered the cemetery, wrapping her off-white denim coat more tightly around her chilled body.  She had mixed feelings about seeing Spike again.  Though it had only been a week or so since his voyage, her perception of him had changed so drastically in those days that she felt as if it'd been a lifetime.  She loved him, and she missed him despite his assault on Buffy, and despite the fact that he really had disappeared from her life long before he left for Africa.  He had faded away from her with out a care or concern when Buffy was brought back, and this broke her heart.  As she drew closer to her destination, that pain began to surface, and by the time she had reached the gates, some part of her was even happy that he was now suffering.  As she traveled deeper into the cool, misty graveyard, she noticed a dark figure with bleached hair sprawled out on the wet grass.  

As she drew nearer, she noticed that he lay comfortably on his back, arms down parallel with his sides, and a smoking cigarette held between his lips.  He stared upward at the sky, which was fading into a deep and lulling purple; tiny stars beginning to come out from their hiding place behind the quickly receding blue.  He appeared so deep in thought that it seemed as if he were somewhere else completely.  She stepped closer, crunching a leaf inadvertently beneath her shoe, which sent his head flying up and back at the sound.  They locked eyes, and he rose quickly, brushing himself off.   They didn't speak for several moments.  He seemed to be absorbing her; taking in her presence.  "What are you doin' out by your self Bit?"  He asked finally, lighting a new cigarette.  "There's beasties crawlin' this place tonight."

"You tried to rape my sister." She said bluntly, not answering his question. Now standing face to face with him, Dawn could not remember any of the things she'd planned in quiet rage to say, so she just opened her mouth and spoke what came from her heart. Spike blinked with shock at her forwardness, and then tossed his cigarette and looked down.  He did not answer for some time.  He looked to her like the same Spike she knew, though his hair was a bit tousled, and his eyes contained something they did not before.  Humanity she speculated.  They still held that icy vivid passion, but now they also seemed to glow with understanding.  Hot pain, and sea waves of guilt were evident as well. 

"Dawn…" he half whispered, clenching his fists.  "I never aimed to hurt her…." He met her eyes. "You _know _that."  They pleaded with her for forgiveness, but she refused his silent and desperate request.

"You did though." She continued coldly, arms crossed protectively across her chest.  "You hurt her really bad Spike…and you hurt me too."  Spike winced at this, looking off to the side.  "I thought you could never hurt us.  We…_I_ trusted you, when no one else did.  I thought you were my friend…" she finished, looking straight into his eyes, letting him see how she hurt.

"I am!"  He insisted, looking puzzled.  "I— It killed me…what I done to your sis…and cuz of that, things are different now.  I dunno if I can explain it to you jus' yet though." he said, trying desperately to understand the source of her sudden hostility.

 "Don't bother." She growled.  "I already know."

"Buffy told you…" he said to himself, looking ashamed.

"It doesn't matter.  You left, Spike." she continued.  The floodgates to her anger had been torn open, and it poured now with no restraint.  "You just left, like you never cared at all." She said, tears starting glaze over.

"It was only for a short bit a' time---" he tried to reason, walking towards her.

"_Before_ that." She interjected, stepping back. 

 He stopped in his tracks; face blank with confusion.

"What on earth are you gettin at Nibblet?"

"Before."  She reiterated.  "When Buffy was brought back…you just forgot about me…you forgot I even existed Spike."  He cocked his head slightly sideways as she spoke, trying to let what she was accusing him of sink in.  "I never meant anything to you…I was just a tool to get to Buffy, and when she died, I was the closest thing to her you thought you could ever get.  That's why you stuck around all summer, pretending like you gave a crap, when you never really did.  " He started to shake his head in protest but she pushed forward.  "She came back though, and you didn't need me anymore, so you just…left.  No big deal.  It was all for yourself anyway."  She said, looking away and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Rubbish." he said, his face torn between shock, remorse, and desperation.  "That's rubbish and you know it."

"No…it's really not Spike." She said shaking her head.  "And then, what you did to Buffy…you could have really hurt her.  You were capable…of hurting someone you love. That means you were capable of hurting me too, if it weren't for that chip"

"Dawn..._please"_ he begged with frustration.  "What I did…I was outta my bloody mind! …But I got the ol' switcheroonie, 'n now things are changed." He pleaded, wishing his weak excuses were enough to make up for the damage he'd done.

"Yah." She laughed with scorn.  "By accident.  You didn't want a soul.  You wanted the chip out.  You wanted to be horrible again, so you could kill Buffy, and probably the rest of us.  You _obviously_ didn't care that much if you were gonna put my life in danger just to get back at my sister for something that was_ your _fault in the first place!" she fumed as hot tears streamed down her face.  Spike strode up to her suddenly and grasped her by her upper arms tightly but not unkindly.  

"Listen to me."  He demanded, his voice low, and rough like gravel with emotion.  "I _never_ stopped carin' about you.  I'd let that sodding demon annihilate me before I ever let anything happen ta you."  He shook her arms gently as he spoke, with the dim hope that through touch, she would magically be able to see inside of him, and know his heart exactly as it was.

"When was the last time we hung out?" Dawn asked accusingly.  Spike was silent for a moment, but Dawn answered her own question before he could.  "Not since Buffy came back."

 "I--I haven't had the timeBit!  I been busy as a bloody bee these days, surly you understand?" he replied.

"Yah… busy boinking my sister."  she threw back.

"I—It's not like that."  He argued, sighing heavily with frustration.  "I just…"

"Forget it.  I gotta go." she said, breaking from his grasp, and starting to walk away. 

"Dawn wait!" he called to her, and she stopped for a moment, turning around.

"Ya know…" she said shaking her head.  "I came to be here you…" Before he could say anything more, she turned and walked out of the graveyard.  Spike stood silently in shock, watching her leave: a stark blonde flame, lost against the starry night


	4. Surrender and Accept

4._Surrender and Accept_

Spike paced the dark ally ways of Sunnydale, trying to string together some sense of organization between his thoughts, feelings, and general state of mind.  The encounter with Dawn had infuriated him, mostly because what she said had been the truth, and he didn't want to believe that he'd ever neglected her that way.  He was angry.  He was angry with her for throwing this upon him now of all times, but really he was angry with himself:  angry for hurting her, and hating himself for what he did to Buffy.  He groaned, kicking the rusted green dumpster next to him.  He didn't need this now.  His thoughts were racing uncontrollably, and his feelings danced cruelly around his heart in indecipherable patterns.  Since being tossed into this murky ocean of confusion and disarray, he had been able to come to one solid conclusion.  He was still relatively himself.  He'd cowered in the corner of his crypt the entire night before, terrified of what his soul was going to do to him; terrified that it would make him forget all that he had been as a conscious entity, and blind him of perspective.  This was not the case though.  He was still able to embrace his general identity, and this calmed the spurts of panic that crawled up his chest like waves into his stilled heart.  This was his only consolation though. The humanity had saturated him completely, and he turned suddenly to slam his fists against the damp brick wall next to him, wishing for the billionth time that he were dust.  The faces of his murder victims rose from the depths of his unconscious, to show once more their eyes as he drained them of blood, of life, but he forced them back angrily.  For the first time in Spike's afterlife, he was fighting his heart with his mind, instead of the other way around.  For two years, he had fought logic and reason to earn just one more second in the slayer's presence, and now he called on that same reasoning to spare his sanity from being ripped apart at the seams.

"It wasn't my fault!" he cried to the terrified faces inside his head.  "What was I supposed to do?  Bloody starve?!"  He grabbed his forehead with his hands and tugged madly at the bleached curls on top.  Racking sobs began to creep up, starting in his stomach and then squeezing their way obstructively into his throat, but he choked them down with rage, nearly gagging himself with the physical effort. "No!" he barked. "I'm _not_ gonna be sorry!  I did…what I had to do…" he panted.  "I did what vampires do…it's what they do!!" he pleaded with the countless bodies that were piling up in bloody heaps behind his eyelids.  "I never asked…to be turned…and I _damn_ well didn't ask to be made into a blubbering ninny!"  He was pacing again now, and muttering matter of factly to some spot on the wall that moved along with his erratic strides.  "I was just makin' due with what I had…makin a life for myself…doin' what comes natural.  Damned buggering soul!" he raged, dropping to his knees.  He had been resisting its presence unrelentingly since the moment the soul was released into him; trying to separate it from him self, isolate it, and in essence, have control over it, but this was a battle that could not be won, and he was growing weary of fighting.  It was now a part of who he was and he could not change that. He fell to his knees, and laid down slowly in the damp cold ally, covering his face with his arms.  With a deep throaty sigh, he let go, finally, of his pride, and surrendered, weeping into the ground, and staining the musty pavement with his tears.  

Spike had no idea how much time had passed when he finally sat up from the filth coated cement, but when he looked upwards, he noticed that the thick night sky was lightened now to a soft blue, and the stars had begun to fade, semi-invisible, back into hiding. His stomach ached from sobbing, and he stayed for a moment, keeled over, before standing up to brush the dirt from his body.  As he reached into his shirt pocket for a cigarette, he suddenly felt eyes burning into his back, and he flipped around to confront a dark figure standing in the entrance to the alley way.  

"Oh…buggerin 'ell."  he cursed irritably as he recognized who it was.

"Shouldn't you be off somewhere wallowing in self pity, like the pathetic loser that you are?" Xander asked nastily.

"Piss off, Harris." He replied, waving his hand towards Xander in a motion to leave him be.  "Last thing I wanna do right now is listen to your flapping pie hole." 

"That works out for you then." He said stepping towards Spike. "Cuz I don't plan on doing much talking."  As he stepped nearer, Spike noticed the stake clutched in Xander's hand.  Spike looked at him with amusement.  

" So you're gonna stake me then?" he asked with a chuckle.  

"Yah, I am." Xander replied, angry that he was not being taken seriously.

"You don't have the bullocks." Spike challenged casually, lighting a cigarette. "Never did."

"Wanna test that theory?" Xander replied, beads of nervous sweat appearing on his forehead.  "Trust me Spike, I've got no problem dusting a scum-of-the-earth waste of space like you…soul or not."

"Ahh…so you've heard the big news, yah?" he remarked, looking mildly surprised.  "Come to make certain I'm never forgiven, have you?  Right then.  How bloody mature of you." He said with sarcasm. "Ya know…_almost_ as mature as skittering away like a frightened puppy dog on your special day!  Bravo Harris." he taunted, putting the cigarette between his lips and clapping his hands together slowly.  "You've really proved yourself a respectable bloke these days."  He chuckled.  "And _you're_ here to judge _me..._now that's a bloody brain buster_._" He finished with a smirk that caused his high and finely sculpted cheekbones to protrude with mockery.  Taking a drag from his cigarette, he swaggered closer to the angry man in the dark.

"Ya know…" Xander began.  "I thought maybe you'd be different…maybe you'd cut the arrogant bullshit for once…finally show a little respect for the guy that's gonna end your miserable—"

"Oh, wait!" Spike interrupted with a chortle.  "Let me guess.  You want me to beg you for my life, 's that it?"  He asked.  "Get down on my knees and plead? Oh Xander!  Have mercy!  Spare my pathetic existence!!  I never meant any of those nasty things I said to you!" he mocked dramatically, putting his hands together to feign prayer.  "You'd fancy that wouldn't you?"  Xander didn't answer; didn't move.  "Well I'll let you in on a lit'l secret." Spike continued.  "I'd dust myself before I _ever_ begged you for a bloody thing.  The fact that I despise your sorry hide 's got nothing to do with bein evil.  'S got to do with you being a whining, cowardly, leech of society, that's gonna stake a bloke who cant even defend himself.  You're a loser Xander…always have been…always will be."  He said, dropping his cigarette butt and grinding it into the ground.  Xander stood for a moment in silence. His eyes contained something between a mix of rage and pleasure, and then he leaped at the vampire, slamming his fist into Spike's nose as hard as he could.  Spike went flying backwards, crashing unceremoniously into a decaying pile of wood pallets that lay against the wall, his nose dripping with blood.  Xander ran to where he lay, stake poised for attack, but Spike grabbed his arm suddenly.  "This is gonna sting like a bloody bitch, but it'll be worth it." he said, right before hauling his fist into Xander's jaw.  He flew back and hit the ground, and Spike grabbed his head in anticipation, but the pain didn't come.

The two men stared at each other in shock from their positions on the ground.  A slow grin crawled its way onto Spike's face as Xander scurried onto his feet in fear. "Looks like Mr. Cave demon got somethin right after all." he declared, climbing to his feet and wiping the blood from his nose.  Xander braced himself, and then charged the vampire, punching him in the face, and then in the stomach.  Spike felt it, but was not phased. "Oh…this is going to be all _sorts_ of fun." He gloated, walking menacingly towards Xander with a triumphant grin full of white teeth.  Xander tried to punch him, but Spike grabbed his fist in mid flight, and landed his own fist into Xander's gut. "Yeah.  Definitely fun." Spike said decidedly as he grabbed the quickly tiring man by his throat, and slammed him up against the wall.  Xander tried to escape the tight grasp, but it was pointless. Spike was much stronger than he would ever be.  Before he could open his mouth in protest, Spike was punching him repeatedly in the face and kneeing him in the stomach.  "How does it feel you buggering ponce?!" he seethed.  He was suddenly no longer enjoying himself.  All the rage that he'd been forced to bottle up for the last few years was bursting forth with unbridled freedom.  Spike and Xander had always had a certain distaste for one another, and when Spike became chipped, Xander took that opportunity to degrade, harass, and occasionally beat upon him as often as he could, with the comfort of knowing that Spike could do nothing in defense.  For three years he sat and took it, because he had no other choice.   For three years that rage had been brewing into a fine hatred, and now it finally had an outlet.  Suddenly Xander was in air as Spike hauled him across the ally way.  He slammed into the opposing brick with a heavy thump.  The wind had been knocked out of him, and he was gasping for air. His ribs were on fire, both his eyes were beginning to bruise, and blood dripped from his nose and mouth.  Spike stormed at him and picked him up, slamming him to the wall once more.  "God…stop….oh God."  Xander gasped.  Spike began to raise his fist to him again, but stopped, looking at Xander with confusion, as though his brain just now realized what his body was doing.  A nauseous look passed over his face and he let go of Xander's arms, watching him slid slowly down to the ground.  

 "I'm gonna stop now."  Spike panted, almost to himself.  "This…" he mumbled, backing slowly away from a bruised and bloody Xander.  "I'm done with this."  Xander laid his head against the wall in relief.   "I could kill you right now."  He said quietly without a hint of arrogance.  "But I'm not gonna stoop to your level" A pause. "You're not bloody worth it."   Lighting a cigarette, he turned and made his way back to the cemetery just in time to escape the searing rays of sunrise.


	5. Lies

5. _Lies_

"Welcome to the Double Meat Palace, may I take your order?"  Buffy asked exhaustedly without looking up, to the customer in front of her.  Her 8 to 5 shift was drawing to a close, and she feared she might pass out at the cash register if she didn't get out of there soon.  

"Umm, yeah.  I'd like one people-burger to go please… extra people, and uh, hold the onions, they give me nasty indigestion." Xander joked holding his stomach dramatically.  Buffy began to look up with a smile, but it quickly mutated into a look of shock and horror when she saw her friend's face.  Both his eyes were black and the left was a good deal swollen.  He had a fat lip that was split down the middle, and a bruised throat. "Oh my God, Xander!  What the hell happened to you??" she cried with concern. 

 "What?  Oh, this?" Xander replied, faking ignorance.   "Aw it's nothin!  Just a scratch.  I slipped in the tub."  He attempted a goofy grin but his grotesque wounds transformed it into something more like a twisted grimace. Buffy folded her arms across her chest and gave Xander her serious worry face.  He sighed, putting the jokes aside.  "You just about done in here?"  

"Yah." She replied, removing her cow hat irritably.  "Just gotta lock the door on the way out and—Xander who did that to you?" she insisted, disregarding discussion of close up.

"I'll explain when we get outside." He said, nodding his head towards the other employees, all within earshot.   "You can walk me home, and I can tell you a nice bed time story on the way."  She nodded knowingly, walking out from behind the counter, and then in a few minutes, with Xander out the front door.

"Now, tell me what happened? Buffy demanded as they walked in the direction of his house.  

"Spike saying 'to Hell' with anger management is what happened." Xander replied. 

"Spike did that to you." she repeated doubtfully.  "Xander that's impossible…I mean not that he wouldn't….but, he physically can't.  He'd pass out from the pain first." She said, looking up at him, impatient for a real explanation.  

"Well he did, and with the many hard punches might I add." He insisted, motioning to his wounds. "Spike is de-chipped Buffy.  Whatever demon it was that gave him his soul back, took the chip too.  There must have been some kinda underworld two-for-one special goin on. Ya know…they'll even throw in an extra 15 percent off your next purchase, and a free Fear Demon if you're in the doors by 6." He rambled jokingly.  

"So…what, he just hunted you down and went all berserk for no apparent reason?"  She questioned, ignoring his antics.  "That doesn't sound right…when I left him, he could barley string together a coherent thought." She said quietly.

"Well…" he paused for a moment.  He was so torn between himself that he could almost feel the little angel on one shoulder and the little devil on the other.  His every natural inclination was to be truthful, but he just couldn't bear to let Spike win this.  He knew how Buffy would react if he told her what really happened between him self and the vampire.  She would see Spike as the victim and Xander as the bad guy, and some immature, juvenile part of him simply could not let that happen.  The truth of the situation was that Xander resented Spike.  He resented that fact that despite all the awful things Spike did, or had done in the past, punishment always eluded him.   He was never faced with the much-deserved repercussions of his actions, and he always managed to slip by judgment, somehow finding acceptance with the scoobies time after infuriating time. While Xander couldn't find forgiveness for what he did to Anya, no matter what he did, or how awful he felt, Spike was getting away with 150 guiltless years of rape, torture, and murder, right under his nose.  It just wasn't fair.  Spike didn't deserve redemption. If he lied, Xander thought to himself, then perhaps Buffy would stake him, thinking him unstable.  

_"She'd never believe him over me anyway." _ He reasoned with himself.  Spike would be gone or isolated from the group for good, everyone's lives would be simpler, and the scoobs would be left none the wiser to his little fib.  It felt wrong, deep down inside his bones, but this childlike jealousy was fierce, and it overcame his good judgment.

"Yah."  He answered.  "That's basically the gist of it.  Personally, I think he's off his platinum blonde rocker, and I wouldn't trust him with Dawn anymore if I were you……..God knows what kinda freaky deaky things are buzzing around inside that bleached noggin of his."  Buffy looked troubled.  Something just didn't jive about the way Spike was behaving.  Dawn had told Buffy about her and Spike's exchange at the cemetery, and from what she understood, there had not been a hint of violence in his demeanor.  'Something doesn't make sense, or maybe he really has lost it', she thought darkly.  She wouldn't be shocked if this were the case.  Unleashing morality onto a creature whose very existence is rooted in evil, can be undoubtedly detrimental to its mental state. 

"I'll take care of it." She said simply, as they reached his apartment.  Xander nodded, feeling uncomfortable with what he'd done.  As he turned to go inside, Buffy asked carefully, "How are things going with Anya?"  

"Um…not so hot." He replied, looking pained.  "She's sorta mad that I chose to live out the end of days with Will instead of her… apparently she's overlooked part where I save earth from impending misery and doom, but hey, you know Anya…if there's a hair to be split…" he trailed off.  Buffy shook her head in astonishment at the order of Anya's priorities.  

"Talk about seeing the glass as half empty." She said quietly.  "But," she continued with hope. "She loves you.  If she didn't, she wouldn't be so hurt, or so angry…and…I think that where there's love, there's always a chance for forgiveness." She said, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

He sighed heavily. "I just don't know how much longer I can sit around and wait like this…ya know?  I mean what more does she want from me?  I've given everything I have…and it's still not enough." He ranted with frustration.  

"I know." She replied, looking down.  They were silent with reflection for a moment, staring at there feet in thought.

"Like sand through the hour glass…" he quipped after a bit, shaking his head in amusement at the drama of their lives.

Buffy chuckled, reaching her arms out to embrace her friend.

"I better get goin." Xander said, glancing at his watch dramatically.  "I've got a date with Mr. Budweiser and the good Captain that I can't be late for."  Buffy rolled her eyes with a smile.   

"Try not to have too much fun." She called sarcastically as he turned to go inside, raising his hand goodbye.  "I'll take care of Spike…" she said to herself, turning to make her way towards the cemetery.


	6. Truth

6. _Truth_

"Ow!!!!  Bloody Hell!!" Spike cried as Buffy slammed her fist into his face with a blow that sent him flying into the crypt wall. He stood up quickly and backed away, wiping a thumb to the dribble of blood that ran down the corner of his mouth.

"Can't say I didn't deserve –" he began sincerely, avoiding eye contact with the angry slayer.

"So this is what you're doing with your new soul Spike?  Beating up my friends?!"  She accused angrily.  She was using the anger as a front, as a barrier to her deeper emotions.  It was a method that she had used her whole life as a slayer to keep the feelings that were buried dangerously close to the surface, at bay.  It prevented her from feeling vulnerable, and gave her a sense of power and control over any challenging situation.  However, with Spike it was difficult, because he always managed to pierce through her walls so easily, and openly read what lay within…a feeling she hated.  "Well what would you fancy I'd have done?  Sat there like a ninny while the blighter puts a stake in my chest?  Not bloody likely, that. I'll be damned 'for I let _that_ wanker take me out."  He retorted indignantly, standing straight to face her, but still not looking into her eyes.  She hit him again, hard, in the nose, and he stumbled, falling onto his back.

"Don't play games with me, and don't lie to me, or _I'll_ put a stake in your chest." She threatened mercilessly.  

"I'm _not_!" he insisted with determination.  Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him expectantly.   Spike sighed and shut his eyes for a moment before recalling the story. "I was out walkin…mindin my own, and the stupid git jus' popped outta the shadows…went all, 'Walker: Texas Ranger' on me.  Said he was gonna kill me…soul or not." He explained with complete honesty, his voice cracking on the word 'soul.'

"You're saying that _Xander _attacked _you_?" she asked dubiously.  Spike nodded.   "Damn right I am.  Bugger went after me like a bleeding lunatic, so I hit him.  I was all for the pain, but—"

"It didn't come."  Buffy finished quietly, putting the puzzle pieces together in her mind.

He nodded again.  "So…I gave 'im a lit'l taste of his own before takin off…Bloke deserved it though." He added defensively.  She believed him.  She knew Spike well enough to recognize when he was being honest, and it corresponded with Xander's reaction when he found out about Spike. The pieces fit, and she knew it was the truth, even if she didn't want it to be, but she wasn't ready to give Spike the benefit of the doubt.  

"Why should I believe you?  Why should I trust anything you say?" she challenged. Up until this point there had been no discussion of Spike's attack.  Buffy had not been emotionally prepared to confront the incident, and Spike had not been mentally sound to, but it hung unspoken in the air between them, raw and bleeding like torn flesh, and thick like an invisible barrier.  Spike knew the implications that lay in her question, and he put his head down.  He'd not met Buffy's eye since that night in her bathroom when he realized in shock what he'd done.   That once had been too much.  In those fleeting moments as he stared, gaping, at his love lying bruised and violated on the white tile floor, he was for the first time, able to see his own reflection.  He did not view it in physical form, and it was not mirrored within Buffy's glassy lenses, but as he looked into her eyes, he saw all the pain, and all the hurt, that was because of him.  In the injury and revulsion that smeared her face, he saw himself, and through the love that raged like a wildfire in his chest, the true nature of his being was revealed to him.  The gift of vision that love gives us all, allowed Spike to recognize his own evil from the heart's perspective.  He saw himself as she saw him.  He saw a monster.  That night he had run away from it; run away from him self, unable to face the truth of what he'd done, and what he was.  He blamed Buffy, vowing rage filled revenge, because he couldn't cope with the guilt. After all, being angry was much easier than being in pain, but he never loved her any less, and the demon saw through that.  He saw through the misplaced anger, and deep into Spike's latent desires.  He sensed so clearly, like crystal in the sunlight, his want of a soul, that it almost blinded him.  Spike got what he ultimately wanted, even if he didn't know he wanted it at the time, and now, as he stood in front of her, he too realized the truth.  At first he felt shock, but then it made sense to him in some strange way, and he was not surprised.  It was like waking from a thick haze of denial.

"Buffy…" he half whispered, collapsing onto his knees in front of her.

"_Don't _say it!  Don't you _dare _tell me you're sorry!"  She commanded fiercely, her eyes beginning to water over.  "What you did to me…what you _tried_ to do to me…" she blinked back tears.  " 'sorry' will _never _be enough."

"Buffy _please_…" he groveled, putting his hands on his head and bending towards the ground in desperation.

"No….Spike don't." she said demandingly, but as the familiar words left her mouth, a vivid flash back of Spike pinning her violently, and unrelentingly to the floor, raided her mind. She shut her eyes against the still fresh pain and humiliation, and attempted to take hold of her composer.  "I can't…I can't do this…it's too hard." she cried, a few tears slipping free from the well that had pooled under her eyelids. "If you apologize to me right now, I might kill you." She declared rather unsteadily, backing away.

"Please…" he whispered, pulling together what courage he had left inside him to look, terror stricken, up into face.  "Don't forgive me."  He pleaded with self- loathing.  "Buffy, Please don't forgive me."  She stared at him, internally rocked by his words.  They were the same exact words that she had spoken, between sobs, into Tara's lap.  Yet another cruel nexus between herself and Spike was revealed.  "I think I wanted this…" he cried in devastation.  "some part 'a me…for you…I did it…for you…but…God!  I didn't want…_this_!" he rambled, staring at Buffy, but past her, deep into something else that was not visible in this physical plane.  This is too much…I can't… what did I do?  What have I _done_?  I didn't see it before…it was too dark…but now the glow bug's inside, and I can see… It was right in front of my eyes…You can't…You can't tell anyone…the things I've done…_No one _can know!!"  He babbled, his voice cracking with emotional frenzy.

"Spike…you're losing it." Buffy said shakily, stepping back to where she was in front of him.  "You need to calm down, and get your thoughts straigh—"

"I didn't know!!" he cried suddenly, startling her as he leaped up, and grasped hold of her arm.  "It just happened…and after I told you, that I don't hurt you…and you trusted me…maybe…for once….I didn't know how to behave!" he choked through tears, letting go of her, and turning around so that she could not see his face.  Buffy's heart pounded with adrenaline, and she bit her lip to stave off another stream of her own tears.  She had never felt so many emotions at once.  She wanted to comfort him, hate him, forgive him, and kill him all at the same time; so instead, she did to Spike what came natural to her.  She hit him.  Hard.  "You tried to _rape_ me Spike!  _How_ can you say you love someone, and then do what you did to me?"  He looked up at her from where he had landed on the ground, his eyes red and blurry with tears, and his face twisted with self-disgust and surrender.  Buffy didn't want to see it though. She wanted him to think that he was right, be defensive, and fight back, because she was very angry.  The anger filled her, and she wanted so badly to hurt him; to make him pay for his mistake, for how he had made her feel that night.  She wanted more than anything to punish him, but she couldn't bring herself to do so when he was already punishing himself so severely. 

"I know…" he said, stumbling backwards and squeezing his eyes shut  "I'm…nothing.  I'm…beneath you…"

"Shut up!!" she cried, kicking him in the face to drown out his words.  "C'mon Spike…why don't you stand your ground?  Save what dignity you have left." she instigated, trying her best to be cruel; to keep the anger running hot and volatile, and not give in to the pitiful, helpless, form in front of her.  "Don't you wanna hurt the one you love some more?" she pressed on, silently begging him to get up and claim proud responsibility, so she could teach him the lesson he'd already learned.

"No! Please…Buffy…I'm awful…I'm an awful thing…just please…please hurt me.   Hurt me till it's enough!" 

"_Shut up_!" she wailed, but this time the sobs slipped through, frosting her anger with tears of compassion and pity. She hit him again, but this time with significantly less force.  Spike let the weak blow send him falling back onto the cement with total apathy, and he lay there, staring brokenly into the cement.  Buffy could hold it to together no longer, and she surrendered as well, covering her face with her hands, and weeping almost silently into the darkness.   

Buffy pulled herself together after several long moments, wiping her eyes dry with her hands.  Spike had not moved from the floor, and it was silent inside the crypt except for his ragged (though unnecessary), breathing.  Buffy walked slowly over to him, and kneeled down, taking a long, deep breath before speaking.  "Spike…I think…that you need to get out of this place for a while." She said quietly, looking around the dank, dark whole that he had called home for the past three years.  "If you stay in here, cooped up this way…" she trailed off.  

"There's…no where…" he grumbled raggedly, sitting up slowly but keeping his eyes to the ground.

"Well…I'll see if maybe I can find you some place…something…better than this…" Buffy offered, returning to her feet.  Spike only signed heavily and put his head into his knees, struggling to maintain his momentary stability and mental clarity.  Buffy looked down at him on the ground, at a total loss for words, or even constructive thoughts for that matter.  She felt like she was lost in a thick forest, and every moment that passed was a fight through the brush.  "Spike…" she half whispered.  "Oh my God." She shut her eyes. "…Spike…what do we do?" She asked almost rhetorically, rolling her head back to search the ceiling for answers.

He offered no reply, only the muffled sound of his body rocking slowly back and forth.


	7. Backwards and Forwards

7. _Backwards and Forwards_

 How many times do I have to tell you Anya: I wasn't _choosing_ her over you, I was trying to save our asses.  Why can't you see that??" Xander implored, looking at his ex girlfriend from across his kitchen table.

"All I know is, the world was coming to a bloody, misery filled end, and you wanted to spend it with her instead of me." Anya persisted, almost pouting.

"Because it was our last chance An!" he defended.  "Would you rather I sat there like a bump on a log, and watched Willow obliterate us all with the blink of her eye??  I was trying to save your life…our lives."  He reached for her hand but she pulled away.

"I thought _I _was your best friend Xander!" she exclaimed, ignoring his comment.  "That's what you told me…then again you also told me you wanted me to be your wife, and we all know how well _that _turned out…" she said scornfully.  Xander sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.  He had been dreading this conversation since Buffy left him at his doorstep the night before.  He loved Anya with all his heart, but she was so self involved at times, that it made his head hurt.

"Does it even make a single bit of difference to you that we're still alive?  Not tryin' to blow my own horn here, but, can you _please _look at the bigger picture for one measly second??"

"Yes, Xander." She said sarcastically.  "Lets all hail to the great Xander Harris.  _You _saved the world.  _You're_ the big hero, but you still broke my heart!" she continued, her eyes starting to tear.  "You tell me one thing, but you do something else!  You _say_ you want to marry me, and then you don't.  You _say_ I'm the most important thing in your life, but then you go to Willow.  The fact of the matter is that I don't trust you anymore…" she finished on a somber note.

"God!" Xander exclaimed, motioning frustration with his hands.  "I can't do this anymore Anya!"  Before he could say another word there was a knock at the door.  He opened it, and Buffy stood, arms crossed, on the other side.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked distractedly.  

"I know you lied about Spike, Xander." She said, jumping to the chase, and not noticing Anya within earshot, inside.  "And now I wanna know why." She asked angrily.

"What's she talking about Xander?" Anya asked suspiciously. 

"Think we could do this later?  I'm kind of in the middle of something here."  Xander pleaded quietly to Buffy.

"No.  We can't." she replied sternly.  "It's a simple question.  Why would you _do _something like that? And why would you lie about it?" she inquired, searching his eyes for answers.

 "Lie about what?" Anya asked, walking up to the two of them.  Xander sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

"About how his face got pummeled." Buffy answered crossly.  

"Look." Xander insisted.   "I just…I didn't want you to be mad at me, ok?"

"Mad at you?!" Buffy replied with incredulity.  "You tried to _kill_ Spike!  God, Xander! He didn't even know he could fight back!" 

"See? And this is _exactly_ why I didn't tell you." Xander reasoned, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and failing miserably.  

"You tried to kill Spike??" Anya cried with horror. "Why?  Why would you do something like that?"

"Yah, cuz Spike's so God damn innocent!" Xander lashed out.

"That's not the point." Buffy retorted.  "I'm _not _making excuses for him Xander, but I'm not going to make them for you either."

All you've _ever_ done is make excuses for him."  Xander slung back.

"Look."  Buffy replied. "What Spike did to me was terrible.  I know that.  I know that more than you, or anyone else."  Xander looked to the floor.  "But what you tried to do was wrong.  He has a soul now Xander.  She said quietly.

"Oh, so is that how it works?  A soul equals a clean slate?  All's forgotten?"  He laughed scornfully.  "Well that's how it worked with Angel anyway, isn't?"

"No." Buffy said simply, ignoring the cheap shot.  "It doesn't mean a clean slate, _or _automatic forgiveness.  It's not that easy…Not that simple.  It never is…which is why what you did was _so _wrong Xander." She declared angrily.  

"I just can't believe you."  Anya said, astonished, after watching the banter for a moment.  "You _knew _he had a soul, and…_plus_ you thought he was defenseless!  In the official book of cowardly things to do Xander, that's right up there in the single digits." She chided.  "Pretty much right next to leaving your bride at the alter."

"_Shut up!"_ Xander cried suddenly.  Buffy and Anya both jumped, startled.  "I don't _need_ this right now! I can't…I can't deal with this!" 

God, will you _grow _up for two seconds?!" Buffy shouted fiercely.  Xander only looked at her coldly for a few moments, and then, "That's it. I'm done.  I'm outta here."  The girls chased hurriedly after him as he walked out the door.  

"Where the Hell are you going?" Buffy asked with tense confusion.

"I'm leaving.  I'm getting the Hell outta this miserable town, and away from people who want me to be the person _they_ think I should be, and do the things they want me to do.  Got a problem with that?" He lashed out, glaring from Buffy to Anya.

"No." Buffy replied stolidly.  "No problem at all.  When you're ready to get over yourself you just let me know." She finished icily, storming off down the street.

"Don't run away _again _Xander.  Don't _do _this!"  Anya pleaded. "You're acting like a child; a little child who's mad because he isn't getting what he wants!"

"Look who's talking."  He threw back, andbefore Anya could get another word in, he was out the door, into his car, and gone.

"I admit, I'm not far from resorting to physical force if it means getting her out of that bloody room."  Giles said decidedly, standing with his hands on his hips in front of Willow's bedroom door.

"If you mean breaking down the door, I-I think you should leave that to Buffy."  Anya advised from her place next to him.  Giles looked at her, mildly insulted.  

"Slayer strength."  Anya explained, shrugging her shoulders.  Giles only rolled his eyes.

"WILLOW!!" He cried suddenly, banging on the door.  "I demand you come out of there this instant!!"

"Yah…cuz _that'll_ work."  Anya said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  "Show that unbelievably powerful witch who's boss with your terrifying upper-class British dialect.  I'm sure she's quaking in her boots."  Giles opened his mouth in retort but was interrupted by the sound of Buffy coming up the stairs.

"No luck?" she asked somberly as she reached the landing of the upstairs.

" I think we're going to need to break her out of there…" Giles said, removing his glasses tiredly. 

"Willow…_please_ come out!"  Buffy called through the solid oak.  "You need help, and you can't get it locked in there like an animal!"  There was slight shuffling and then more silence.  Buffy sighed wearily.

Downstairs, Dawn was sitting on the couch in her PJ's watching TV, and trying very hard to hear what was going on upstairs when the doorbell rang.  When she cracked it, Spike was on the other side.  

"Niblet" he said, nodding his head tentatively towards her in 'hello.'

"Spike." She replied stone-faced.

"Mind if I—" he began, but she opened the door to him suddenly.

"She's upstairs."

"Thanks…" Spike replied, looking uncomfortable as he walked in.  Dawn began to walk back to the living room, but he called to her.

 "Dawn."  He said, walking slowly over.

"What do you want?" she asked with indifference.  

"Dawn…I'm so sorry…" He said tenderly, putting his hand gently up to her hair for a moment.  It was the first time that Spike had ever touched her in an affectionate way, and her feelings suddenly betrayed her; a tear slipping silently down her cheek.  He only smiled warmly at her, and then without another word, turned and made his way up the staircase.

Buffy stared disdainfully at the door. "I don't know what else to try guys, I think—"

"Let me talk to her." Spike said, startling the entire group with his sudden presence.

"Spike." Giles said with alarm, taking in his ragged appearance.  

"You don't look so hot…" Anya said sincerely.  Spike only chuckled maniacally, and then stopped.  "Outta the way mate." He said, budging in front of Giles.  "Big bad'll get 'er outta there."

"Spike you're not well." Buffy warned warily.  Spike didn't answer.  Instead, he took a breath and kicked the door as hard as he could, sending wood chips flying in all directions.  The door swung in violently, and then back the other way.  He walked inside and shut it as best he could behind him, leaving the scoobies staring in shock.  

Willow had been huddled in the corner of her room, sobbing with terror at the prospect of seeing her friend's faces, when the door suddenly came crashing inward.  She stood up quickly and backed against the wall.

"Spike?" she asked with surprise and confusion when she saw him.

"Yah." He responded, seating himself comfortably on her bed.  "Come on.  Have a sit  You and I are gonna have a lit'l chat." He said, motioning her to join him.

"Spike, what are you doing here?" Willow asked, sitting down beside him.

"Heard things haven't exactly been gum drops and candy canes round here as of late.  The whole, black death, ending the world, bit doesn't suit you I'd wager." He said, lighting a cigarette.

"How did you know?—" she started to ask.

"How could I not." he scoffed.  "Powerful rumblings like that don't exactly go unnoticed in the demon world."

"I guess not but—"

"Anyway." He interrupted.  "Right now you need to get your wiccan ass out there and face what you've got coming to you."  He declared matter-of-factly.

"What? I—I can't…" she faltered, her face beginning to crumble. 

"Oh spare me the water works, please." Spike said, annoyed.  "Just get out there and face the music already!" he insisted, motioning to the door.

"I _can't!" _She cried, standing up.  "What I did…I killed somebody!  I tried to kill my friends!"

"Yah, and I slaughtered half of Europe, what's your point?"

"Well no offense Spike, but it's not like you, ya know…care or anything."  She replied.  "It's all… 'good times,' and 'those were the days' for you.  I have repercussions to deal with…I actually feel bad..." She said looking at him with deep sorrow.

"What, you think a vampire with a soul doesn't know guilt?  Cuz let me tell you—" Spike began casually.

"Wait, what?"  Willow looked at him with confusion.  You don't…" she began, shaking her head.  He only looked back at her expectantly.  She walked over and stood in front of him, her intrigued eyes prying his own.  Slowly and gently she reached forward and placed a shaking palm against Spike's chest.  There was a warm, tingling sensation that began in his heart and spread quickly through out the rest of his torso.  It felt like millions of tiny metallic beads being spilled over his chest, and then rolling smoothly to his extremities.  The feeling was overpowering, and he was rendered immobile as a faint silver aura encompassed himself and the witch.  Willow shut her eyes for a brief moment, and then it was over.

"Oh my God…your soul…" she said in shock, pulling her hand away.  "And that was the first time I've used magic since…" She took a deep breath and half sat, half collapsed onto the floor, putting her hands to her head.  "You must be…" she mumbled with emotional and magical exhaustion.  Spike shook away the last of the strange experience, and crouched down next to her, putting his face very close to hers.

 "Take what your feelin' Red…multiply it by a million…and maybe…just maybe…it'll be close to what I am." He said quietly.  She looked at him reluctantly.  "I see all their faces…when I close my eyes…and sometimes when their open…" he chuckled. "but I'm here, talkin to you,  and carrying on, and moving forward." He said slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate perfection, as though mere presentation could make her understand.  

"No." she said defiantly, shaking her head.  "I Can't…I can't do this.  I could never make them understand…how awful I feel.  They could never comprehend…" her eyes began to water over again.  "And if they can't know how it feels, then…they'll never be able to forgive me…" she looked down at her hands for a moment.  "I don't even know if Tara…" her voice wavered at the name as tears spilled silently down cheeks.  "I don't even know if she'll forgive me for what I did…" she cried, tipping her head back to search the invisible heavens.  Spike stood up and looked at her with reproach.

"Your bein right selfish, you know."  He said with a bluntness that few could appreciate. 

"What?!" Willow cried, shocked and insulted.  "How can you say that?   I'm trying to—"

"You're tryin to protect yourself." He butted in.  "When the truth is, you've got friends out there who've worried themselves bloody sick over you, and after all the horror you've caused, you're choosin to sit in here and feel sorry for your self, 'stead of tryin to make it better for them." He declared, pointing to the door.  Willow looked lost inside her self, jaw moving up and down slightly but with no words coming out.  "They can't start to put their lives back together, until you start on yours first." He said quietly.

"But it's so hard, and it… hurts." She whimpered, shutting her eyes against the tears.

"Well, welcome to the real world, yah?  If it's so bloody awful then _why_ are you still sittin in here?" Spike exclaimed, standing up and walking towards the door.   Her eyes followed him.  "You can stay in this room till the end of time," he called to her.  "But things aren't gonna change unless you make them."  He moved to leave, but she called suddenly, rising to her feet.  

"Wait! "I--I'm coming."  She said.  Spike simply nodded his head and opened the door for her, putting his cigarette out on the carpet as she walked past him to greet her friends in the hall.

"Ok.  I'm ready." Willow said as she walked down the stairs, suitcases in hand.  She had spent all of that morning packing away her things in preparation for the journey to England, and it felt good.  It felt good to be doing something besides crying, and fearing, and hating herself.  Those first few moments spent out front of her bedroom had been the hardest in her entire life, with the exception of those moments in the morning when she roused out of sleep and remembered that Tara was dead.  As hard as it had been, however, she felt like she'd conquered the mountain that was standing between her, and the chance to reclaim her life.  She suddenly could see a glint of light, where before there had been only darkness. This light was hope.  

"Our ride should be here shortly."  Giles said, visually absorbing Willow's substantial amount of luggage.

"You are coming back, aren't you?" Dawn joked uneasily.  The general mood was one of optimism mixed with tension.  The gang was happy and relieved to see Willow taking a significant turn for the better, but they had not forgotten the things she'd done or said, and it lingered amongst the group, unheard, but by no means unnoticed.  

"I'm hopin." Willow replied, laughing nervously.

"You've made the right choice Willow." Giles said reassuringly, resting a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes!" Anya agreed enthusiastically.  "England will teach you how to not be homicidal, and when you come home, you and I can spend some quality time together paying back the hefty monetary losses that occurred as a result of your satanic rampage." She said encouragingly, patting Willow on the back.  "You _are _going to pay it back, aren't you?" she added suspiciously.

"Um, yah, yes of course." Willow replied, disoriented by Anya's frankness, which, though common, never failed to be distracting.

"I just…I don't know if…" Willow started.

"You can, and you will do this." Giles replied.  

"You're Willow."  Buffy said, stepping forward. "And the Willow I know is strong, and determined, and she can overcome anything if she wants to bad enough." She said softly, looking into Willow's eyes with compassion. There was a honk out side the house and Giles pulled back the curtains.

"Our ride is here.   Are you sure you're ready?" Giles asked gently.

"I am." She answered with quiet determination.  "I have to be.  I don't have any other choice..." She paused, looking around the room at her friends.  Thank you…all of you…it's more than I deserve…" she said, her voice shaking.

"This isn't about what's deserved." Buffy said in a serious tone.  "It's about love…and it's about us…all of us."  Willow smiled at her thankfully, but then looked worried.

"Tell Xander I'm sorry I missed him…" Buffy and Anya exchanged glances.  "and…if you guys see Spike…tell him… thanks for me…ok?" 

"We will." Buffy answered, giving Willow a slightly awkward hug good bye.  Next was Dawn, and lastly Anya.

"Come back all better, okay?" She said as the two girls embraced.  It was crass but sincere and Willow smiled at her appreciatively.  

There were a few more good bye's exchanged by Giles and the rest, and then they were gone.  Anya, Buffy, and Dawn stood motionless in the living room together.  

"And Xander?" Dawn asked, still staring towards the door.

 'Xander needs to come back to grown-up land," Buffy declared.  "Before this 'wronged by the world' attitude gets out of control."


	8. Heat, Fire, and Hope

8. _Heat, Fire, and Hope_

Evening came quietly with a subtle chill that tried to creep and pry it's way into the Summers household, but a warm calmness enveloped the home in a soft cocoon of relaxation, keeping the perils of the night cold at bay, at least for a little while.  Dawn sat, curled up in blankets on top of a heating vent in the living room, idly gazing at the television.  The warm air from the heater blew strands of her hair upward in a melancholy dance across her face.

"Where are you going?" she asked when she saw Buffy putting on her jacket.  Buffy paused before answering.

"To see Spike..." She replied.  "And if you sit on that thing for too long your butt's gonna catch on fire, so get off, cuz I'm _so_ not paying for the hospital bills."  Dawn only nodded distractedly in response.

"You ok?"  Buffy asked with concern, walking over her sister.

"Spike saved Willow, didn't he?" she asked after a moment.  

"No." Buffy answered, shaking her head.  "Willow saved herself…but Spike…Spike made her want to…which is just as important." She added, smiling softly at Dawn.

"It's just all so confusing." She said looking to Buffy.  "I mean, so he has a soul…but he's still Spike…right?  And am I supposed to just forget what he did to you? I can't do that…but it's not really fair to still hold it against him… is it?  And what if Willow can't…what if she's not strong enough?  What if we lose her?"  Buffy looked at her sister sympathetically. "It's just such a mess in my head." She finished, looking away.

"I know." Buffy said consolingly.  "And I wish…I had some super-wise, big sister answer to give you, but I don't…because the truth is, I don't have this any more figured out than you do." She confessed, stroking Dawn's hair lovingly.  "We just have to take it one day at a time…it's all we can do."

The inside of the crypt was dimly lit by soft and lonely candlelight.  A large, full-length mirror had found its place in the center of the room, and Spike stood in front of it, fingers gently and hypnotically tracing the shiny surface.  His eyes desperately searched the illusions inside the reflection, and the tears fell when, no matter how hard he looked, he could not find himself in the familiar setting before him.  He did, however, see a blurry Buffy walk quietly through the door.  She walked up to him, with her arms folded across her chest, but he did not move, or even acknowledge her presence, until some time had passed. 

"What are you doing?" she asked when his eyes would not leave the glassy surface.

"I'm somebody…right?" He asked softly to mirror Buffy.  She pressed her lips together and looked down.  "I'm a person …right?"

"Of course you are." she answered softly, searching his profile.

"But I look…" he protested, his voice stuttering with emotion.  "And I'm not in there.  There's no one in there!"  He placed a hand on the side of the mirror and bent his head a moment before facing mirror Buffy again.  "See…?  I'm looking for me…but all I can see is you…" His voice betrayed him, and he placed a hand over his face to keep Buffy from seeing him cry.

"Spike…Willow's on her way to England right now with Giles…because of you."  He didn't say anything.  "If it wasn't for you she might not have come out of there, cuz God knows I wouldn't have known what to say to her." She persisted sternly.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" he asked slowly.  "That I did a good deed?  Am I a good person now?  Does it make up for that girl I killed in Paris?  I remember that one." A scornful chuckle.  "I killed her slow…watched her beg for half an hour before I finally finished her off…Never heard a person say the word 'please' so many times in my life."

"Spike…"

"So that's how it works, is it?  I just…help old ladies cross the street…give homeless blokes food…and be a good bloody Samaritan, in hopes that it'll all even out?  That it'll tip the scales?  Do enough good and all the bad just washes away?!"  He put one hand on his hip and another to his chin, and turned his back to Buffy, pacing to the opposite side of the crypt.  Buffy opened her mouth to speak but Spike interrupted her, yanking his shirt off violently to expose his chest to her.  She stumbled back nervously.  "It doesn't _matter _what I do Buffy!" he said looking desperately into her eyes.  "Doesn't matter how good I can be now.  It's _still _in there!"  He began to claw madly at his chest, digging his fingernails into the flesh.  Blood oozed out and dripped down in streams, but Buffy grabbed his arms and pulled them away.

"Spike, stop it!!" she cried

"How am I supposed to live like this?!" he hollered back fiercely, whipping out of her grasp.  

"You _asked_ for this!" Buffy reminded him.  "This is what you chose, remember?  This is what you wanted.  A chance.  The chance to be a better person."  Spike shut his eyes tightly against the world.   "Did you think it was gonna be a walk in the park? " She asked incredulously.

"No…" he replied, moving into a dark corner and out of her site for a moment.

"I don't know how you're supposed to live your life like this Spike; not any more than you do…but you have to find a way." She said, searching the room for his figure.  When he emerged into the light again he was holding a stake.  Buffy froze.

"Not necessarily." He replied matter of factly, rolling the weapon around in his hand, and examining it like he had never seen one before.  Buffy's eyes widened in horror as she realized what he had in mind.  "I could make it real easy, reaaaally quick, actually."  Buffy's heart began to pound deafeningly inside her chest.  She resisted the urge to full out panic, and forced herself to stay calm and collected.  "If I lose it, " she thought to her self, "I'll lose him."

"So that's it?" she challenged, walking cautiously towards him.  "You've put yourself through Hell and back, and nowyou're just gonna quit?  Give up?"

"_Shut up_!" he cried viscously, lunging towards her.  His eyes were red and wet with tears. "_You _don't know!" he seethed, throwing his body menacingly within inches of her skin, and shoving his face in front of hers so closely that their noses were almost touching.  "_You_ don't bloody know…how it feels…how it _burns_!"  He put the stake to his bleeding chest and aimed the point directly above his heart with a trembling hand.

 "What was that then?" Buffy asked with quiet intensity, unshaken by his violence. "All an act?  Are you really _that_ much of a hypocrite?" 

"What are you talking about?" Spike growled suspiciously through squinted eyes.

"Everything you said to Willow back there. " she replied.  "I heard all of it Spike.  Every word.  Now are you gonna live by it?  Or are you gonna make her mistake?" she asked expectantly.  He clenched his jaw, and squeezed the stake so tightly that it shook in his hand, never taking his eyes away from Buffy's.  

"I don't even know who I bloody am!" he growled, but she could see pain and confusion behind his anger.

"And you're afraid to find out!" she whispered harshly in his face.  A nerve having been struck, he dropped the stake and grabbed her roughly by her arms.  Still she didn't back down.

"There's no one in the world like you Spike." She continued, searching his eyes.  "You had evil inside you, and you chose to be good instead.  You _suffered_ to be good…for me."  He took in a deep, shaky breath but said nothing. "Things that are evil…demons…vampires … they aren't supposed to choose good over evil.  Their not even supposed to be able to. It's not in their nature…not anymore than being soulless is in mine.  But _you_ did.  You're _different _from them.  You saw what you were that night and you _hated_ it, so you changed. You went against every natural instinct inside you.  That comes from a strength even The Slayer can't wrap her mind around."  Spike could not believe what he was hearing.  He could do nothing really, but stare at her in shock, rendered speechless by her touching words.  

"_Don't_ give up Spike."  She demanded.  "Don't give up on me."  Her whole body shook with sudden terror of the feelings that had sprung up and saturated her eyes with tears…feelings she didn't even know were present until she was already feeling them.

"Then give me reason not to!" He hissed passionately, pulling her closer so that their bodies touched.  "_Give _me a reason Slayer." 

 As the last of the candles flickered out, and with the wind howling with unstoppable force outside, the vampire and the slayer found each other's mouths, and hope was born from a fire of acid and ecstasy that burned until the morning light.

The End


End file.
